


Message in a bottle

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Depression, M/M, attempted suicide, old fic is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they got together Chester wasn't necessarily crazy, he was just really alive. Sometimes Mike thinks there's a fine line between being alive and being insane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Message in a bottle

Chester sits at the piano, running his fingers over the keys slowly. Can’t play much, that’s Mike’s thing. Everything is Mike’s thing. It’s hard not to feel slightly...superfluous beside him. Useless. Too little too late. Like an oasis after days of dehydration in the desert.

 

He dances his fingers over the keys silently. After a day of screaming and noise, noise, noise –  _music_ , he thinks, after a day of  _music_  – it’s nice to hear nothing at all.

 

“What you playing?”

 

Chester doesn’t look up at Mike’s voice simply smiles lazily, “Not sure,” he says and slides forward on the stool allowing the emcee to sit behind him.

 

“Hungry?” Mike asks as he takes a seat, his hands darting out to the keys.

 

Staring at the four hands on the piano Chester smirks “That’s not a song.”

 

“Are you?” Mike tries again and kisses Chester’s neck softly, “Wanna grab lunch?”

 

The notes that Mike hits drift through the silence and what the hell is that song anyway? “Where?”

 

“Dunno. Scoot forward more? Jesus. When did you get fat?”

 

Joking, of course, knows better than to really insult Chester on his appearance.

 

“Every time I fucked your mom she gave me a cookie.”

 

“There’s a KFC near by.”

 

 _What_  is that  _song_?

 

“Or Burger King.”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

Did you take your pills today? Go on. Say it Mike.

 

He looks up and out of the window, surveys Rick’s garden that stretches for as far as the eye can see. Says, “It’s snowing.”

 

Mike makes a noise in his throat and rests his chin on Chester’s shoulder. “You need to eat.”

 

“Let’s go play in the snow.”

 

Mike can’t help himself, drops his hands from the keys and laughs “How old are you? Four?”

 

“Thirty, actually.” He doesn’t say all the things about them all growing up way to soon and simply says, “I love the snow.”

 

“What about lunch?”

 

“I. One snow ball fight. Then. I’ll eat after it. Okay?”

 

He knows Mike is still a little new to mental illness. They’ve been together since Hybrid Theory but back then Chester wasn’t necessarily  _crazy_. Back then he was just really alive. More alive than anybody else Mike knew. He embraced every moment and let everything affect him.

 

Then one day he tried to kill himself. Although he swears he didn’t. He crashed his car – drove straight into the barriers between the motorway and the woods. Ploughed through the thin metal and into the ditch by the side of the road, the car wrapped around a tree.

 

There was smoke and sparks and blood and Chester in the front seat staring straight ahead in confusion.

 

The doctors in white coats with stethoscopes, the doctors who insisted he call them by his first name, the doctors with monitors and charts, they all insisted he take a couple of pills. Just to keep the balance.

 

But today he forgot. And he felt like his old self again.

 

Then it comes to him. The song on the piano. “Message in a bottle!” He says triumphantly, humming the song to himself.

 

Mike smiles, “Just got that?”

 

“I'll send an SOS to the world” Chester sings quietly.

 

“Wanna go play in the snow now?” Mike asks.

 

Chester shakes his head, “I’m hungry. Let’s go get lunch.” He gets up and climbs over Mike, leaves the room singing “I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle.”


End file.
